


Close Quarters

by Cawaiiey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anyways, M/M, Sharing a Bed, mccree likes hanzo and then he wakes up next to him and its like hello there, prompt ask, thats an accurate summary of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 07:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10612599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/pseuds/Cawaiiey
Summary: “You may have the bed, McCree. I have been on the run for years, I am used to sleeping in odd places.”“Now, just wait a tic, darlin’, you make it seem like I ain’t done the same shit. Take the bed, I can fall asleep damn near anywhere.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> HEY IM DONE WITH THESE FINALLY LMAO another prompt fill another day
> 
> prompt: We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair

It started as a two-person mission in Russia. Should’ve been an easy in-and-out. And, for the most part, it was easy on the in. Not so much on the out. 

Russia’s unforgiving climate prevented the transport from being able to get to them, for at least forty-eight hours. They’d had to find shelter at a nearby abandoned safehouse, a bunker barely big enough for a bedroom and a washroom, and with only a decrepit heater as a way to combat the chill that seemed to seep into the room from every corner. There were plenty of rations, luckily, so they had no need to worry about food. Heat, however, and where to sleep were different stories. 

“You may have the bed, McCree. I have been on the run for years, I am used to sleeping in odd places.” 

“Now, just wait a tic, darlin’, you make it seem like  _ I  _ ain’t done the same shit. Take the bed, I can fall asleep damn near anywhere.” 

McCree watches Hanzo huff, arms crossed over his ample pectorals with a scowl marring his pretty face. They’d been going back and forth for what felt like hours now, arguing over who would take the bed. Jesse knew that the archer was stubborn as hell (he’s spent more than enough time with him to know, what with being partners and drinking buddies and, occasionally, when the liquor flowed a little more freely, friends with benefits) but this was just being ridiculous. Not that McCree was much better, all things considered.

Hanzo was trembling already from the cold, the thin material of his kyudo-gi not suited for the Siberian weather. And McCree, having shed his outer armor, was not doing much better. One of them was going to have to budge at some point. 

With a huff, Jesse perched on the edge of the stiff cot and yanked his boots off, careful not to touch the cold metal floor of the bunker with his feet, considering he was only wearing socks now. He chanced a glance up at the archer, who was looking smug as he set his bow down on the ground and moved to sit on the floor near the heater. 

“Oh no y’don’t. Getch’yer ass over here, we’ll both freeze to death if we don’t share some body heat,” Jesse snapped at him. Hanzo froze, turning his head to look at McCree with a scowl on his face. He looked like he was about to complain, or insist that he would be fine but, with a particular tremor that rolled through him, he conceded. 

Jesse watched him walk over, a bashful look coloring his features. He wasn’t sure  _ why _ , considering they’d done this song and dance before with far less clothes. Although, they were always pretty sloshed when they fucked, and Hanzo never stayed the night or was there in the morning if Jesse happened to pass out, no matter how drunk he was. McCree figures this is a bit more intimate than the archer was used to or comfortable with but, well, necessities. The archer crawls onto the bed and flops onto his side, curling in on himself as he turns to face the wall. Jesse lays down next to him and rests one arm over his waist, tugging the man close enough that he can feel his warmth. The heat is a delight in the tundra, and Jesse finds that he’s easily slipping into the hold of slumber, the events of the day having their effect on him. Hanzo is not far behind, and they both manage to fall asleep without another word. 

When they wake up, the cold is still biting, but bearable, and Hanzo has turned in his sleep to face him. Sleep blurs his vision enough that he has to blink a few times to focus, but, when he does, oh, the sight that greets him. 

Hanzo Shimada is a gorgeous man. It’s why McCree counts himself as lucky to be able to be his friend and, occasionally, to sleep with him. Regardless of his desire for a concrete relationship, he’s alright with the infrequent nights when Hanzo is gasping his name and clenching around him. Hanzo is gorgeous and McCree is, well, McCree. It’s a damn miracle that the man can stand to be around him, let alone want to sleep with him. Even though he never stays the night, he wouldn’t flirt with him, wouldn’t fuck him unless he wanted to. Jesse figures that it was enough; he’d told himself that it was enough. 

Then again, he’d never had the privilege of seeing the elder Shimada in the morning. 

There’s little light in the bunker, save for a few low-power lights along the walls that glow an orangey-yellow, but it’s enough to illuminate Hanzo’s face. It’s enough for McCree to see the way the man’s eyes open, still half-lidded and hazy with the last vestiges of sleep clinging to his lashes and making them heavy. It’s enough to highlight the hair that’s fallen out of his ribbon, framing his face in strands of inky black. It’s enough to let him watch the soft smile that spreads across the archer’s face and creases the corners of his eyes, shocking Jesse enough that he almost doesn’t hear the whispered, “good morning,” that Hanzo breathes into the air between them. 

All of those desires that he thought he’d buried when he’d resigned himself to simply being friends with benefits surge forth, taking his breath away. He wants to wake up to this every morning. He wants Hanzo to look at him with soft eyes, wants him to wrap his arm around his waist and lay his head on Jesse’s chest, he wants him to be comfortable enough around him to take off his prosthetics and cuddle up to him in the night. McCree feels dizzy with all of the desires that are hitting him at once, head spinning as he tries to find the breath to say good morning back. 

Hanzo doesn’t seem to notice Jesse’s internal turmoil, as his eyes slip shut and he shivers, the chill of the tundra seeping into his bones. The archer shifts closer to McCree, wrapping his arm around the man’s hips and burrowing his head into his chest. The pang of desire that rocks through McCree at the domesticity of it is almost painful. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping one arm around Hanzo’s waist and tangling their legs together. Hanzo makes a content noise in the back of his throat as he soaks up Jesse’s warmth, while the cowboy’s heart beats double-time. The damn thing is probably loud enough for Hanzo to hear, but he can’t stop. 

“What are you thinking about, McCree?” It’s spoken quietly, hush against the fabric of his serape. McCree freezes for a moment before he tightens his grip on Hanzo and tilts his head down to press his face into the top of the archer’s head. The elder Shimada hums inquisitively and runs a hand along the curve of the gunslinger’s back, feeling the bumps through the fabric of his shirt. 

“Hanzo,” he breathes into his hair, brows knitting together as he takes a deep breath, warring with himself on whether or he wants to risk voicing his newly renewed desires to him. The archer doesn’t give him a chance to say anything as he shuffles backward and turns his head up to look into his eyes. There’s sleep still clinging to his gaze, but he looks content, and he’s smiling, and Jesse McCree is fucked. He leans in, brushing their noses against each other, and barely stops himself from kissing him. If Jesse McCree is anything, he’s a gentleman. 

“Can I?” He mumbles, feeling his lips brush Hanzo’s smiling ones. The archer chuckles softly, his breath washing over McCree’s lips in hot waves. He unwraps his arm from around McCree for a moment to bring his hand up and thread it through the hair on the back of his head, wrapping his fingers around the tawny locks. Jesse watches those sleepy eyes blink and open again, a flash of  _ something _ in those umber orbs that he wants to see again and again and  _ again _ . 

“I thought you would never ask, Jesse McCree.” 

Body heat is easier to share when you’re trying to kiss the other person breathless. 

**Author's Note:**

> me, taking a drag off a chocolate cigar: yeah i posted like 8 prompt fills in one day what's it to you  
> no seriously please tell me whatcha think


End file.
